The Other Gold
by Helga Von Nutwimple
Summary: Trapped in a loveless marriage, Monica returns to New York to get her old life back. However, she soon finds that the friends - and loves - she left behind have changed in dramatic ways. A companion piece to "Hanging By A Moment".
1. A Relationship With A Future

A/N: Allrighty then!  
  
I started off with this story, and got lots of negative mail & reviews from people who hated where the plot was going, begging me to make it a dream or in some other way not real. So I did... and now I'm getting negative mail & reviews from people who actually liked it before and *now* detest it, are confused, knew where the original story was going and liked it better, etc.  
  
Color me frustrated.  
  
So here's what I'm doing. There will now be *two* copies of the first two chapters up on FF.net... one called "Hanging By A Moment", with the revised plot beginning in Chapter Three, and one called "The Other Gold", with the plot I had originally intended. So if you're reading either one for the first time, the chapter duplication is *intentional*.  
  
So read whichever one you preferred.  
  
In a way, the stories will end up being companion pieces. "The Other Gold" will fully explore the reality only visited by Monica in "Hanging By A Moment". Depending on people's reactions, I may do other companion pieces fleshing out the vignettes Monica warps through in "Hanging By A Moment"... we'll see. And if there's an alternate reality you'd like to see Monica warp through, leave a review. I've already received a few, and *will* be doing one Monica/Chandler reality, as well as a Rachel/Will (Brad Pitt).  
  
Onward...  
  
--------  
  
Prologue  
  
October 1998  
  
"We-he-hellll," Chandler drawled, leaning against Monica's doorframe. "*You* look just... beyond yummy."  
  
He crossed behind her, taking her hips in his hands, leaning down to murmur against her neck. "You didn't have to get all dressed up for me, you know..."  
  
Monica winced, lowering her lipstick tube. "Chandler... I'm not, actually."  
  
"Not actually... what?"  
  
"Dressed up for you."  
  
He blinked, taking a step back. "You, uh... have some work party or something?"  
  
"I have a... date." She stuck in her earrings, keeping her eyes on her dressing table.  
  
"Oh!" he blurted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, that's stupendous. T-that's fantastic. I mean, I... I couldn't be more happy for you!"  
  
"Look, Chandler, I... I know we've been fooling around lately, but... I'm a little old for that, you know? I need to be in a real relationship. One that has a future. We're fun, but... we're not going anywhere. I mean... that's why I broke up with Richard. Twice. I can't... I can't get myself in that situation again, no matter how much fun we have."  
  
Chandler stuffed his hands in his pockets and avoided her eyes. "Right."  
  
"Chandler, I'm sorry... but... don't you agree with me?"  
  
"Oh, sure! Yeah, totally. I'm gonna... I'm gonna go see what Joe's up to. You, uh... you have fun on your date, okay?"  
  
He leaned in awkwardly and kissed her forehead, striding out of the room and gently shutting the door of Apartment 20 behind him.  
  
Before slamming the hell out of the door to Apartment 19.  
  
***  
  
June 1999  
  
"I thought you didn't smoke anymore," Richard said, dropping wearily to the steps beside Chandler and pulling a cigar out of his pocket.  
  
Chandler looked up, flicking ashes to the step below their dress shoes. "Yeah, well... it seemed like a good day to take it up again."  
  
"I hear ya," Richard laughed. "It seemed like a good day not to quit."  
  
"Here," Chandler said, fishing his Zippo out of his pocket and lighting the tip of Richard's cigar.  
  
Richard puffed until it ignited, regarding Chandler sadly. "You're in love with her, too."  
  
"Well sure, yeah, but other than that... *bitchin* wedding, right?"  
  
"I'd expect nothing less from Monica."  
  
Chandler barked harsh laughter. "Especially with unlimited funds."  
  
"Monica Becker," Richard mused, plucking at the knee of his dress pants. "That's really just a horrible, horrible last name."  
  
"She seems to like it."  
  
"Chandler?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Would you like to go get really, *really* drunk and feel *very* sorry for ourselves?"  
  
"Always knew I liked you, m'man," Chandler cried, clapping Richard on the back.  
  
***  
  
Christmas 1999  
  
"Oh holy *crap*," Phoebe burst out. "You guys... oh my god... come here!"  
  
"You opened your card from Monica already?" Rachel crossed the living room, Santa hat drooping on her head. "Pheebs... we were gonna do that *together*."  
  
"Hold it up, Pheebs, what'd she..." Chandler blinked. "Holy Mary Mother of God!" He sprinted for the tree, where Rachel had stuck their Monica envelopes among the branches.  
  
"Well, there's my rent for the next three years," Phoebe stuttered, pulling out the check and gaping at it.  
  
"What'd the card say?" Joey asked.  
  
"Dearest Phoebe, we hope you're having a Merry Christmas. We weren't sure what you'd like, so we got you this. We're in Paris right now, but we'll give you a call at New Year's. Love, Monica and Pete."  
  
"What does yours say, Chandler?"  
  
"Dearest Chandler," Chandler read. "We hope you're having a Merry Christmas. We weren't sure what you'd like, so we got you this. We're in Paris right now, but we'll give you a call at New Year's."  
  
The card dropped slowly in his hand. "Love, Monica and Pete."  
  
"Ross? How about you?"  
  
"The same."  
  
"Gimme that," Chandler said, grabbing Ross's card and holding it up next to his. "This is a *handwriting font*, you guys. It's a *mail merge* from a *database*."  
  
"Hey, it's Sherlock Nerd," Phoebe quipped half-heartedly.  
  
"She didn't even sign the checks. It's a stamp." Chandler shoved Ross' card back at him. "Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-*blech*."  
  
"I'm her *brother*," Ross said softly, turning the red envelope over and over in his hands.  
  
Chandler's cellphone chirped, and he held it to his ear. "Chandler Bing..."  
  
He put his hand over the mouthpiece. "Richard got one too. And so did your parents, Ross."  
  
Chandler wandered into the guest room to talk to Richard, and the other four sat around the coffee table glumly.  
  
"Wow," Joey finally said. "This is the first time I've ever held a check this big and felt bad about it." He considered. "Actually, this is the first time I've ever held a check this big."  
  
"Well, maybe she just didn't have time to shop," Phoebe said. "I mean, she's jetting all over, y'know, going to foreign countries like Japan, um, and France..."  
  
"And Vermont," Joey said helpfully.  
  
"Uh-huh. And maybe she didn't have time to shop."  
  
Phoebe looked at the clock, then the silent phone. "Or call."  
  
***  
  
February 2003  
  
"Oh, c'mon... *answer*," Monica Becker sighed, pressing the "end" button on her phone with a groan. "You can't have *all* moved."  
  
She looked out at the blizzard currently turning New York into a blank page, sighing to herself. She really should have called them more, kept in touch... she'd just kept telling herself she'd do it tomorrow. And then there'd been another benefit, another opening, another ski trip in the Alps, another opera...  
  
She dialed another set of numbers, waited.  
  
"Hi, you've reached Chandler and Joey's. We're screening our calls. Here comes the beep, impress us."  
  
Oh, thank god. At least some things hadn't changed. "Hi, guys, it's Monica. The blizzard grounded our jet, and I thought I'd see what you guys were up to. If you're really screening, pick up."  
  
Silence. "Okay, I guess you're really not there. I'm gonna go by Central Perk and see if anybody shows up... if you get this message, my cell number is..."  
  
She finished leaving her message and pressed the button to lower the window separating her and her driver. "Malcolm? It's that little red shop, up there. You can just drop me off, I'll probably have to wait a while."  
  
"Certainly, Mrs. Becker."  
  
She grabbed her purse and stepped out of the limo, struggling to see against the dense and blinding snow, waving a gloved hand for Malcolm to go.  
  
Monica wrapped her coat tighter, stepping up onto the curb. Her first cup of Central Perk coffee in, what? Four years? It was gonna taste like heaven.  
  
She reached the window, breathed a hole in the frost and peered inside, searching out the orange couch.  
  
It wasn't there.  
  
Monica ran her glove over the glass, cutting a thicker view, and gasped.  
  
Bookshelves. Row after row of bookshelves.  
  
She ran to the front door, repeating the process on the window, revealing words etched in glass.  
  
"The Bookworm Fine Used Books."  
  
Monica stepped back in horror, then ran across the street, craning her neck upwards.  
  
Christmas lights.  
  
Only one person still had their Christmas lights up in February.  
  
Rachel still lived here. And judging from the light inside... she was home.  
  
***  
  
Monica knocked on the door of apartment 20, shaking the snow off her boots impatiently.  
  
"Ross... Ross, honey, will you see who that is?"  
  
A surge of happiness... following by an equally large share of guilt... crashed through Monica's chest. Rachel and Ross... her best friend and her brother... had gotten back together... and she didn't know.   
  
"I suck," she mumbled, brushing her hair back beneath her cap. "I really, really suck."  
  
The door cracked.  
  
"Mon?" Ross said in shock. He turned and called over his shoulder. "Hey, you guys... it's, uh, it's *Monica*!"  
  
"Well, uh, hey -- hey, Mon," Ross said awkwardly, turning back to her. "So what... what are you doing in town?"  
  
"Our jet got grounded. The snow, y'know. So do I... do I get to come *in*?" she said pointedly. Ross was still standing with the door cracked.  
  
"Oh, yeah. Yeah, sure. Of course." Ross took the chain off and opened the door.  
  
"Oh, wow," Monica breathed. "It's... it's *different*."  
  
The apartment was a sea of dark wood and neutrals... not what she'd expected from Rachel at all. It looked like... it looked like she'd invited Ralph Lauren over and told him to go to town.   
  
Well, that made sense, Monica thought to herself. She probably got a discount.  
  
She shook her head, grabbing Ross in a hug. "It's so good to see you!"  
  
"It's good to see you, too, Sis," he said... and then his eyes flashed toward the bedroom for the seventh time in a minute.  
  
"I can't believe you got back together with Rachel and didn't tell me," Monica laughed, hitting him lightly on the arm.  
  
"Back with... oh, no." Ross chuckled. "We're just visiting."  
  
"We?"  
  
"Uh. Me and my girlfriend."  
  
"Oh!"  
  
"Me and... Pheebs."  
  
"Pheebs?" Monica said slowly, shaking her head. "You and Pheebs and your girlfriend?"  
  
"Um, no, actually. Me and my girlfriend... Pheebs."  
  
"You're dating Phoebe?"  
  
"Have been for a while, yeah." Ross said, smiling a little. "It's good, Mon. It's really good."  
  
"Wow," Monica whispered. "Well, um. Wow. I wasn't expecting *that*!"  
  
"A lot's changed," Ross said. "Actually, I, uh... I think me n' Pheebs are going to be the smallest shock you get tonight."  
  
"What... what do you mean by *that*?"  
  
"Hi, Mon," Rachel said softly, walking out of the bedroom door.  
  
"Hey, Rach! Ross just told me about him and Phoebe! I'm still recovering!" She laughed, pulling off her gloves. "How have you been?"  
  
"I've been great," Rachel said. "Really happy, um..."  
  
"Hey, Monica," Richard said, coming out of the bathroom.  
  
"R-Richard? What are you... what are you doing here?"  
  
"He lives here," Rachel said, arms wrapping around herself defensively.  
  
"He lives here," Monica repeated.  
  
"Yeah... I... well... y'know. Made my parents happy, right? Married a doctor..."  
  
"Mah," Monica said, trying to force her suddenly numb tongue to make syllables. "Mah."  
  
"Married," Richard finished helpfully, holding up his left hand.  
  
"You're dating Pheebs?" Monica stammered, "And you married *Richard*? How... how... how did it... how'd *that* happen?"  
  
"Well, I started hanging out with Chandler a lot..." Richard began.  
  
"This is a joke, right?" Monica blurted. "It's a joke. That's why it took you so long to let me in, you were coming up with this! It's f-funny! Good one, you guys!"  
  
Ross, Rachel, and Richard shared an uneasy look as Monica continued to giggle.  
  
"Monica... it's not a joke."  
  
"Right," she laughed.  
  
Ross sighed. "Look, Pheebs should be back in a minute, why don't you go out in the hall and ask her."  
  
"Sure! Right! Richard probably called her cellphone from the bathroom." Monica wiped tears of laughter out of her eyes. "You guys are too much. Where are Joey and Chandler?"  
  
"They're across the hall," Ross said, "but Mon... look... we should probably talk..."  
  
"You crazy guys," Monica sighed, pushing the door open and heading out towards the hallway. "I'll be back in a minute."  
  
She rapped on the door to 19, smiling as Chandler answered the door.  
  
"Well hey, hey there, hey Mon..." he stuttered, swinging the door wide.  
  
Monica's eyes roamed around the apartment. Same posters, same Barcoloungers, same foosball table... same old Chandler in his ratty blue bathrobe, same old Joey parked in the chair with Hugsy.  
  
"Oh, thank god," she sighed. "At least one place is like I remembered it."  
  
"You, uh... you wanna come in?"  
  
Monica strode past Chandler, setting her gloves on the counter as he closed the door behind them. "You have no idea how happy I am to see this place, to see you guys. I should have known you two would be the one constant in the universe."  
  
"Gimme a hug, Mon," Joey said, setting Hugsy aside and taking her in his arms. "You want something to drink?"  
  
"That would be great." Monica sat down on a bar stool, regarding the old bachelor pad fondly as Joey pulled a glass out of the cabinet. "I'm a little freaked out, I mean... you would not *believe* the trick the other guys just pulled on me."  
  
"Really," Joey said, shooting Chandler a look and setting Monica's glass in front of her.  
  
Monica sipped her drink. "Oh yeah! I mean, adding that to finding out Central Perk is gone..."  
  
"Yeah, it's been gone a while," Chandler added, leaning on the counter across from her. "I think it closed down in... when was it, Joe? 2000?"  
  
"Somethin' like that."  
  
"Anyway, it's just a huge relief to see some things don't change."  
  
"Um..." Joey said awkwardly. "Actually, Mon... I think everything changes."  
  
"Not you guys! There's Laurel and Hardy, there's Hugsy, there's the duck!"  
  
"There's something else," Chandler said softly. Joey reached across and took his hand.  
  
"Something else... what?"  
  
"Um," Chandler jerked his head towards his and Joey's intertwined hands.  
  
"No seriously, what?"  
  
Joey bounced Chandler's hand up and down a bit, and Monica finally noticed.  
  
Chandler and Joey both blinked and stepped backwards as she spat juice all over them. 


	2. It Wouldn't Be In Winter

Monica ran across the street and sat down heavily on a bench, hands dangling limply between her knees. The snow soaked her legs, making her lower half very nearly as numb and frozen as her brain.  
  
She's told Chandler and Joey that she had to meet Pete for dinner... which was, of course, a lie. It turned out that marrying Monica Geller had been a lot like winning the Ultimate Fighting Championship... once Pete had accomplished it, he'd lost all interest. It was one of the reasons she'd been so excited to see them all again... to revisit a world where she mattered.  
  
But she didn't, did she? Not to them.  
  
The front bell of her old apartment building jangled, and Rachel stepped through a door held by Richard, wrapping her scarf around her and calling back through the doorway. Monica quickly slid behind the bench, thankful she'd worn white.  
  
The rest of them followed, spilling out the door and onto the sidewalk like the curtain call of her past. Phoebe snuck a handful of snow down the back of Ross' coat, and he whirled, laughing... Richard captured Rachel's small lavender mitten in his own large black glove, leaning down to whisper in her ear. Chandler and Joey danced out in front, chasing each other into the street, peacoats swung out like capes, powder flying in arcs from their shoes, attempting to sling their scarves in each other's faces using only hula-hoopish neck motions.  
  
They looked like a postcard. They looked so *happy*. The only thing missing... was her.  
  
Only... only they didn't seem to notice.  
  
Chandler turned back to the group, yelling words the wind stole from her. She'd always loved him in that coat, thought it made him look like a poet, or a dark stranger...  
  
Joey ruined the illusion, smashing a snowball on top of Chandler's head. Chandler caught his wrist and whirled, pulling Joey to him, capturing his lips in a kiss that grew more heated as the others laughed and walked ahead.  
  
Monica's stomach rolled with a mixture of jealousy, nausea, and fascination. She'd almost forgotten kissing Chandler, forgotten how different he was from the other men she'd known... forgotten how his eyes flared with heat and then closed with almost holy reverence... almost forgotten how he kissed, mouth open and hungry, the way his hands would trace her jawline in wonder, the pressure of his lower lip, the slow and irresistable heat of him.  
  
But he wasn't kissing her... he was kissing Joey, his fingers tangling into Joey's dark hair, Joey's hands sliding up his stomach, snow falling all around them. It was like a beautiful painting... of her worst nightmare.  
  
"Okay, you two, get a room!" Phoebe bellowed. "We're gonna be late!"  
  
Chandler and Joey broke off the kiss, laughing, and ran to catch up with the others.  
  
Monica stumbled back onto the bench, hands groping in the snow for support. It was true. They couldn't have faked that, not even for her benefit, there was no way... she'd felt Chandler's passion from across the street. And if *that* was true, then all of it was. Pheebs and her brother.  
  
*Rachel* and *Richard*.  
  
Richard... oh, God...  
  
She should go back to the hotel. Now. Run like hell for the Presidential Suite, climb into the whirlpool, wrap a robe around her, leaf through a magazine, pretend this night had never happened. Pretend it was a dream, a nightmare concocted of jet lag and too many bags of peanuts. Leave her memories of them the way they were supposed to be... not this, this Dali interpretation of her world she'd stumbled into.  
  
"You forgot these."  
  
Monica's head snapped up. Phoebe stood in front of her, holding out her hand... which held Monica's gloves.  
  
"How'd you...?"  
  
"I'm psychic, remember? Also, you're wearing a *really* bright red beret."  
  
Monica's hand flew to her hat, and her face flared to match.  
  
"Nobody else saw you," Phoebe added gently. "Look -- I told Ross I was coming over here, he'll make my excuses. You wanna get some coffee?"  
  
"Yeah... from Central Perk," Monica muttered. "Fat chance of that, though..."  
  
Phoebe touched Monica's arm. "Gunther works at a place four blocks down. Coffee tastes just the same."  
  
Monica stood, dusting the snow off. "Everything... everything changed, Pheebs."  
  
"Yeah, Mon... it did. Of course it did. Everything does." She took Monica's arm in hers. "C'mon."  
  
"Not... not *this* much." Monica brushed her hair away from her face. "I just... I just don't understand how this *happened*."  
  
Phoebe pushed her hat down, squinting against the wind. "Well... where do you want me to start?" 


	3. Thin Ice

A/N: The last canon episode applying to this fic is "The One After Ross Says Rachel". Any events following that episode are subject to change.  
  
August 1999  
  
"Hello?"  
  
Emily's voice crackled out over Rachel's speakerphone. Ross pumped a fist in the air, and Chandler clapped him on the back.  
  
"Emily, Emily... thank God you answered... I can't believe I finally found you..."  
  
Emily paused. "You've been looking, then?"  
  
"Every day! For like a year! You have no idea, no idea... you should see my phone bill! I hired a detective, I must have talked to all your relatives a thousand times... they didn't tell you?"  
  
"Ross... do you have me on the speaker?"  
  
"Um, yeah..." Ross looked around at his collected, breathless friends, gathered around the base unit.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"So... uh... they can stop me if I say anything too stupid."  
  
Emily laughed, and Ross' heart leapt. Phoebe gave him a thumbs up; Rachel clapped her hands together. "Well, take me off, silly. You're on your own this time."  
  
Ross lifted the handset and pressed the button to switch over. "God, Emily... how have you been?"  
  
"So... who all was I talking to?"  
  
"Oh, everybody..." Ross glanced over nervously at Rachel.  
  
"Who's 'everybody'?" Emily asked lightly... fluffy white snowdrifts over hazardous ice.  
  
"Um. Chandler," Ross gulped. "And Pheebs... Joey... and, uh, rachelandrichard..." Maybe she wouldn't hear that next-to-last-one...?  
  
"Rachel and... and Richard?" Emily repeated hopefully. "Who's that, Ross... Rachel's boyfriend?"  
  
"Oh, no, no-no..."  
  
"Oh. Rachel's still single, then?" The warmth that had crept into Emily's voice dissipated by the second. "And you two still... see each other every day?"  
  
Emily let out a heavy sigh. "Ross, I'm very busy, I think I need to go..."  
  
Ross' heart sank. He lowered his voice, cupping his hand over the mouthpiece and turning his back to the assembly. "Um. Um. I think, um. I think you misunderstood, honey. Richard isn't Rachel's *boyfriend*... he's her *fiance*."  
  
"Fiance?" And spring returned to the phone line.  
  
"Yep," Ross winced.  
  
"And you're... you're all right with that? Being with them, together?"  
  
"Well, yeah... why wouldn't I be? Rachel's my friend, I want her to be happy. *I'm* concerned with my *wife*."  
  
At this, all five of the others gave him double thumbs-up signs.  
  
"Look, Ross... I have three calls holding, but I'd like to talk. May I call you back in a few minutes?"  
  
"Sure! Sure, Emily, that's be... that's be great."  
  
Ross hung up the phone and pressed it to his chest. "She's calling me back. *She's* calling *me*! And she'd 'like to talk'!"  
  
"Dude, that's awesome," Joey gushed, wrapping his arm around Ross' head. "How the hell'd you pull *that* off?"  
  
"Uh. My charm. And, um, a really sort of small, teensy lie."  
  
Chandler couldn't resist. "Was it *wee*?"  
  
"Um, sure. I uh, kinda-sorta told Emily that, um... Rachel and Richard were engaged."  
  
"Oh, *that's* not wee!" Chandler cried out.  
  
"What the -- *Ross*!!" Rachel began thwapping him with her magazine.  
  
"Good thing we were here to make sure you didn't say anything stupid," Richard chuckled.  
  
"Okay, you weren't on the phone, you didn't hear it! She asked me who was here, and I told her, and she *assumed* Richard was Rachel's boyfriend!"  
  
"What, he couldn't be *my* boyfriend?" Phoebe asked. "What am I, chopped liver?"  
  
"Anyway, she got so *nice*, y'know? So happy, when she thought Rachel was taken. And then I told her that Richard *wasn't* her boyfriend, and blammo -- iceberg woman."  
  
"Boy, I sure hope you two get back together," Chandler deadpanned.  
  
"So I told her he wasn't her boyfriend... he was her fiance. And then she was *so* nice, and *so* happy, and she said she'd call me back, and she wanted to talk! I think we can really work this out, you guys!"  
  
Phoebe glared. "Yes, because the foundation of *every* strong marriage is a big fat lie."  
  
"It's just to get my foot in the door! Y'know, we'll make up, and she'll see how in love with her I am, and then I can tell her that you two broke up for some reason!"  
  
"What, like Rachel crawled out of the window before the ceremony?"  
  
Rachel ceased hitting Ross and began hitting Chandler.  
  
"Bottom line is... this won't affect you guys in any way, but it would *really* help me. C'mon, you guys... I don't wanna be divorced *twice*!"  
  
"I'm okay with it, if it will really help you," Richard offered.  
  
"Yeah, fine, I'll do it too," Rachel sighed.  
  
"Great. Great! Oh, I love you guys, I will totally, totally make this up to you and..."  
  
The phone in Ross' hand began to ring, and he yelped with joy. "That's her! That's her! I'm gonna take it in the bedroom!"  
  
Ross galloped off, and Phoebe stared after him.  
  
"He is such a *dork*," she spat. "I can't *believe* he's doing this." 


	4. Stupid British Snack Food

Rachel and Phoebe looked up from their cups as Chandler trudged into the coffeeshop, slinging his briefcase on the chair.  
  
"Y'know," he declared, ripping off his tie and plopping onto the orange couch, "The more they call me in on Saturdays, the more I start to understand postal workers?"  
  
"Aw, honey," Rachel said. "I thought you and Joey had a Knicks game today?"  
  
"Yeah, I gave my ticket to your *fiance*."  
  
"Oh, will you shut up," Rachel muttered... but it was Phoebe's face that grimaced.  
  
"Aww, c'mon," Chandler grinned. "I think you two make a very cute fake couple. And hey, he's a *doctor*...!"  
  
Rachel sipped her latte. "I'm sure my fake parents will be fake thrilled."  
  
"Oh, check it out," Chandler pointed to the window. "Ross finally synthesized Flubber."  
  
Rachel and Phoebe followed Chandler's finger. Ross was literally bouncing down the street, occasionally launching himself at light poles and twirling around them.  
  
"I guess the long-distance phonathon went well," Rachel laughed.  
  
"I need a muffin," Phoebe spat, pushing herself off the sofa.  
  
"Hey, Pheebs, get me one too..." Chandler called.  
  
Phoebe didn't turn around, stalking towards the counter. Chandler turned to Rachel. "What is *with* her?"  
  
Rachel leaned in to whisper. "I dunno. I thought maybe it was postpartum depression, right? But it's lasted so long, y'know... and she seems okay when Ross isn't around. Do you think they had a fight?"  
  
Chandler scratched his nose, pondering. "I... wow. I don't *think* so. I mean, he was so awesome that last bit of her pregnancy, right? Taking care of her and stuff. And then he ended up coaching her through the whole birth when Frank and Alice got stuck in Delaware, and they'd been spending so much time together... why would they fight?"  
  
Rachel's eyes grew wide. "Oh my god, Chandler!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Did you not hear what you just said? Phoebe likes Ross!"  
  
"But Ross loves *Emily*."  
  
"Oh, god... poor Pheebs," Rachel cried, putting her hand to her lips. "I mean, normally when crap happens to you guys, I say I know how you're feeling, but... oh my *god*, do I know how she's feeling!"  
  
"Yeah, I think I can work up a little empathy for that situation myself," Chandler said darkly.  
  
"They were out of muffins," Phoebe said, reappearing with tears in her eyes and a plate in her hand. "Totally out of muffins. All they had were... *scones*."  
  
"C'mere, Pheebs," Chandler said, opening his arms wide. Phoebe crawled in between Rachel and Chandler, setting her plate aside and letting Chandler wrap her in his arms, stroking her hair. "I'm really sorry that... they were out of muffins."  
  
"I *hate* scones," Phoebe sobbed into Chandler's neck.  
  
Rachel rubbed her arm consolingly. "I know, sweetie. I know. I used to hate scones, too."  
  
"Well hey, hey you guys," Ross said, standing behind the couch and staring down in confusion. "What's goin' on?"  
  
"It's a... pastry thing," Chandler said, brushing Phoebe's hair back from her face. "Phoebe just... figured out that the croissants are made with butter. She's very upset."   
  
"Aww, Pheebs!" Ross said. "Tell you what... I'll go down to Greenlife this afternoon and get you some vegan ones, okay? We'll have a big, French, vegan croissant-eating par-tay!"  
  
"Terrific," Phoebe sniffed, wiping her eyes on her sleeves.  
  
"Anyway, we've *gotta* have *some* kind of par-tay, 'cause guess what? Emily's coming to New York! She totally believes me that I'm over Rachel, and she's gonna come down for a few weeks!"  
  
He thrust his fists into the air. Everyone stared, poker-faced.  
  
"Um... okay... woo-hoo! That's a 'woo-hoo' thing! Come on, you guys! Woo-hoo!"  
  
"I dunno, Ross," Rachel drawled. "I feel kinda weird, y'know, 'woo-hooing' with you without my *fiance's* permission."  
  
"Oh, yeah. About that." Ross fidgeted. "You, um... you think maybe you and Richard could go on some double-dates with me and Emily?"  
  
"What? Ross!" Rachel cried, shooting worried glances at Phoebe. "It's bad enough that we had to let you lie about us -- now we have to *participate*?"  
  
Ross dropped heavily into the green chair. "Look... it's too suspicious if you 'break up' right before she gets here! Rachel, please -- I'm *begging* you here!"  
  
Rachel's eyes flashed back and forth between Phoebe and Ross, both shooting her pleading glances. "I... um... I..." She wrung her hands together. "I will... let Richard decide!"  
  
"Yeah, okay," Ross said glumly, then brightened. "He and Joey should be back from the game by now, right? Were they going to your apartment, Chandler?"  
  
"Yeah, I... I think so..."  
  
"Okay, I'll try to catch them there." He sprang up from his chair, crossing behind them and laying his hand atop Phoebe's head. "Feel better, Pheebs. And look -- I'll talk to Gunther, see if maybe he'll switch to a kind made with margarine... okay?"  
  
"Thanks," Phoebe muttered.  
  
And bouncy-bouncy-bouncy, Ross was gone.  
  
Rachel stretched her arm out languidly, applying delicate fingertip pressure to the edge of Phoebe's plate. Plate and scone clattered to the ground.  
  
"Oh, *oops*!" Rachel cried. "Pheebs, I'm *so* sorry, I accidentally knocked your snack over...!"  
  
"Better get that up," Chandler replied. "Someone might accidentally smash it with their shoe."  
  
Pheebs head shot between them, eyes widening as she recognized that they knew... then filling with a dark glee as she began to pummel the scone mercilessly with both heels. 


End file.
